


The Night before Satinalia

by Nessa_T



Series: All About Us [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Fluff, I love my Bull, Implied Rilienus/Dorian Pavus, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 10:38:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10717743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nessa_T/pseuds/Nessa_T
Summary: Dorian is feeling lonely the night before Satinalia... and then he receives a visitor in the night.





	The Night before Satinalia

**Author's Note:**

> FLUFF!!! Been writing angst (http://archiveofourown.org/works/10581288), so had to take a break :3 
> 
> Stalk me on Twitter! @GamingSheha

It was bleak in Minrathous at this time of the year as nature took on a hostile face of ice and snow. The lake near the villa and frozen over, mirroring and reflecting the faint light of the moon as it lay sprawled like an eerie but marvellous work of art. Yet, the air was static with a strange sense of expectation in the nearby village.

A strange sense of eagerness for the coming of the day after, echoed enthusiastically by the warmth of the children’s laughter and the excited voices of couples as they good-naturedly argued amidst quiet little kisses as they tried to decide on what decorations to put up on their windows.

It was the same in every single home, every single year. First there were those people buzzing with energy, getting ready for the big day tomorrow and a cheerful fire roaring in the fireplace. And then there were the delicious smells of cooking wafting from the kitchens and women with arms covered in flour up to their elbows. Then there were the lovers walking hand in hand along the street, their breaths misting in the chilly air only to be warmed by the gentle press of lips upon lips – lips that slowly moved over each other in a soft caress before pressing itself against the shell of an ear, whispering soft, tender words of love.

And then… and then… there were hot chocolate and marshmallows by the fireplace after everything had been cleaned twice and the presents hidden from the inquisitive hands of the Little Ones.

And it was the same in every home but one.

A man stood by the window as he contemplated the sight before him, a frown marring his face. A sharp pang of loneliness pricked at him before he determinedly drowned it with a healthy swig of brandy. It usually helped. The alcohol left his senses in a haze and the stupor that he drove himself to was a constant reassurance that he should not dwell on the things that he could not have… because tomorrow, it would be the first time that he would experience Satinalia alone. 

No father. Indifferent mother. No friends. No family.

And it bothered him. More than he would care to admit. The loneliness. The many nights of lying in bed alone without tender kisses or sweet nothings whispered into his ear. The many days of waking up only to discover that he was alone and was without a warm body nestling up to him. The many days of looking into bedrooms, only to be greeted with silence as he regarded the empty bed and the too neat cupboards with a certain sense of wistfulness. 

He didn’t understand it if truth be told. Dorian Pavus, the most desired noble in the Imperium. He had it all good looks, a great arse, an incredible political career, a huge house. Everything. He had to be the luckiest bastard in the entire fucking world. So what the hell was he doing alone in his huge, fucking house on the night before Satinalia? There was a joke to be made somewhere, but Dorian didn’t feel like laughing at the moment. In fact, he felt like curling up in bed and bawling his pretty eyes out, but that would mean damaging his reputation as an indifferent son of a bitch. So he didn’t settling instead to drink himself into oblivion.

Damn he was drunk. It was still early, but already he felt the weight of sleep tugging incessantly upon his eyelids. Stifling a yawn, he made his way back to his bedroom, casually stripping down to his small clothes and then slipping into bed. He sighed, promising himself to speak with the Inquisitor via the sending crystal tomorrow before sleep overtook him and he was snoring gently into a pillow. He didn’t hear the sound of the door being opened nor did he hear the muffled sound of heavy footsteps upon the carpeted floor. 

*~*~*~*~*~*

The first thing Dorian noticed when he resurfaced from the realm of dreams was the darkness in his room, and the fact that he was being watched. For a wild moment, he thought that his sometime lover, Rilienus, had returned to his bed, and that that the nights of sleeping alone and needy in his bed had been nothing more than a bad dream.

Then came the heat and pressure upon his body – intense, yet not unbearable. Almost like the glow from dying embers, its heat basking his body in the gentlest warmth that seeped into his very bones, yet it was hot enough to make his senses reel, all rational thoughts, all protests fleeing from his mind and his whole body flushing as a result of that strange heat. 

Heat. And then came the comforting brush of something soft against his brow along with the irresistible slide of something wet along the slender arch of his neck. Everything else came along in a rush. The slide of clothing down his legs. The feather-light caresses. The thrusts. The purrs. The whispers. His aching cock encased in the sweetest heat. The frantic struggle amongst the sheets. The pants. The tension. The slow burn in his groin escalating into a desire so intense that his heart ached with it. The press of unfamiliar lips against his. The touch of gentle yet calloused fingers sifting through his damp hair. And then the groans. The pleas. The arching. More purring. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Going to come. Need to come.

In the midst of it all, he heard it. Those three words that meant so much and yet was so seldom uttered breathed into his ear like the sweetest, clearest song of a nightingale that brought warmth even in the bleakest hour of the night. And with that, release came as surely and as explosively as a man gasping for breath after lingering too long in the deep end of a bottomless pool. Silence. A now familiar brush of lips against his hair. And against all odds, Dorian fell back into slumber, his fingers seeking and finding anchorage in the other set of fingers as if he could not bear to let go. 

*~*~*~*~*~*

The second time Dorian woke up, he knew that the strange presence had left his room. And yet… yet there was a niggling feeling at the back of his mind that told him to walk down the stairs to his living room. With a muffled groan, he crawled out of bed, his disoriented mind taking note of his nakedness before he stumbled around his room searching for his discarded breeches.

It was funny that. He didn’t remember removing all clothes before going to bed. He was drunk, sure. But not drunk enough not remember whether he went naked before going to bed… and certainly not drunk enough to not notice a peculiar haze surrounding his senses that he knew came only with the result of sexual gratification. It was odd. He didn’t think he found release in his sleep. Still, he clumsily slipped into his pants and padded out towards the stairs.

There were soft sounds of someone moving around as Dorian reached the top of the stairs, his hand moving slowly towards the railing to help him steady his shaking knees. He heard it then, a clink of a mug being set upon the coffee table and the almost unfamiliar crackle of a fire that had been relit, its orange glow alleviating the persistent darkness, making the shadows dance and writhe upon the walls.

He took a step downwards, his feet making an audible sound against the floor.

He paused, ears listening intently to the sudden silence below. Listening to the silence and hearing it being reflected back towards him.

Another pause.

Deep breathings now. Soft sounds of cloth rustling against skin. Dorian continued to step down his stairs towards the landing below. Down down down he went. Until finally… finally, he was able to gaze upon the familiar figure clad only in those oversized pants he loved so much, standing in front of the fireplace before him, holding a cup of hot drink in his hand. 

Their eyes held. Grey eyes peering into gold. 

A comfortable silence ensued. Both men contented for the moment to find solace in each other’s presence.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Dorian whispered. It was as if he feared to speak too loudly lest he frightened Bull away. Bull smiled, his lips lifting in genuine delight although it did nothing to mask the fatigue that was present in his face.

More silence. Less comfortable this time. Words meeting a sudden death even before leaving their lips.

“Why are you here?”

Bull’s eye slid towards the fireplace, before slowly placing his cup on the mantle.

“I got your letter?” he said, still studying the bright flames flickering before them. Their shadows seemed to dance upon the walls.

Dorian cocked his head in askance before moving slowly to stand next to Bull. 

“It was a great letter,” Bull said, scratching his horns awkwardly.

Dorian chuckled, suddenly flushing. 

“Shall I read it to you?” he murmured, slipping his hand into the Qunari’s.

“Sure,” Bull answered, clearing his throat before settling down into the floor, pulling Dorian into his lap. He took out a crumpled parchment from his pocket and handed it over the mage.

Suddenly shy, Dorian received it with trembling fingers, held it up to the light, cleared his throat and began to read…

_"It was over._

_Yet the man albeit unconsciously_

_keeps to his side of the bed while the cold_

_takes its place next to him._

_It was over._

_Yet he wakes up in the middle of the night._

_Hands outstretched, fingers seeking,_

_only to find cool sheets where warm flesh once lay._

_My heart aches for him._

_And in the distance, I stand watch._

_Tongue checked, silence held_

_while I dream of a kiss and that one chance_

_to feel the warmth of his breath upon my skin."_

 

There was silence once again, and Bull was playing with Dorian’s fingers.

“Like I said. Great letter,” Bull murmured, pressing a kiss on Dorian’s ear. “And it doesn’t have to be over.”

Dorian turned to look at Bull’s face, taking in the bright eye, his skin marred and mottled with scars but still beloved.

They kissed. 

Bull tasted nice. Like warmth and sunshine with just a hint of the hot chocolate and marshmallows he had drunk. Then they gently broke off, Dorian taking the opportunity to bury his face into Bull’s neck, inhaling his unique scent.

In the distant corner of the house, the clock chimed. It was midnight. And just like that, Satinalia had come.

The two men lay down side-by-side, fingers interlocked and legs entwined on the rug by the warm fireplace, as they listened to the sound of the flames dying in the hearth. 

“Happy Holidays, _kadan_ ,” Bull murmured, before drifting off to sleep. Dorian smiled to himself and within minutes, followed his _amatus_ into slumber.


End file.
